


I'm not sorry there's nothing to save

by rocketdocket



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Break Up, Depression, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, weight loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 08:59:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12678657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocketdocket/pseuds/rocketdocket
Summary: The semi-autobiographical, completely self-indulgent, unauthorized companion piece to lastgoldsun's "side effects may include". Also known as an AU where Robert has depression and his first medication doesn’t work for him.





	I'm not sorry there's nothing to save

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this originally on tumblr three months ago, but I can never find it in my own tumblr archive so I decided to post it here so I could find it more than anything else. As I said in my original notes, this was extremely difficult to write because I pulled heavily from my own mental health experiences. When I wrote it, I gave Robert the happy ending I believed I'd never have. I'm happy to say I'm in a better and more hopeful place now (even though the second, third, and fourth antidepressant did nothing and my diagnosis changed). It's a snapshot of my life and experiences through the lens of one of my favorite characters. Title from “Your Ex-Lover is Dead” by Stars.

The first prescription doesn’t work. By the end of week two a small part of Robert recognizes that. It takes him significantly longer to come to terms with it though. He shows up to his three week check-in, and the side effects have subsided. He’s not nauseous, his hands aren’t shaking, his weight has stabilized, and his heart isn’t racing. So when his doctor asks, “How are you feeling, Robert?” he replies easily that he feels good. Because that’s what a medical doctor wants to know, right? Sure, he still feels tired all the time, and empty, and hopeless, and numb… but the doctor said it would take six weeks for his mood to improve. And Robert hardly even talks to Aaron or Victoria about how he’s feeling, and when he does it’s brief and stilted, the words crushing against his teeth and tripping over his tongue before he’ll let them out. Robert is  _fine_. There’s nothing  _wrong_  with him. And that’s the issue, isn’t it?

Week four is a little more challenging. Each day his limbs feel heavier and heavier. It becomes even more difficult to get out of bed in the morning, and he tries to convince himself that it’s because he loves his beautiful husband so much he wants to spend more time with him in the morning. Or that he’s been working too hard recently, and that’s the real reason why he’s exhausted to his core. But it’s not the truth. And that reality sinks down in Robert’s gut and settles like a stone.

* * *

He starts to think something might possibly be terribly wrong while working at the scrapyard one day. He’s been doing paperwork all morning, but his brain hasn’t been there. He’s felt off all day, disconnected from reality, his thoughts whispering and circling around his head, looking for an avenue in. Some shipment comes in with new supplies for the yard, and Robert grabs a box cutter from the drawer to open it. He puts one hand down on the box and begins sliding the box cutter through the layers of tape holding it closed. He pulls it through slowly, too slowly really, lost in thought. And all of a sudden those whispers in his head are getting louder and louder.  _You’re a disappointment Robert. You deserve everything you get. You destroy everyone’s lives, including your own. Think how much misery you’ve caused, just by existing? Think how much better off Aaron would be without you. If he’d never met you. You’re empty and pathetic Robert, a leech, if you cared about anyone you’d just–_

Robert stops sliding the box cutter through the tape just in time. His other hand that had been casually placed on the box far away from the blade had somehow managed to slide right into its direct pathway. He stared down at it for a long while. Robert couldn’t tell how long he stood there, staring at his hands, considering. It felt like a lifetime, but he knew it was most likely minutes. The thump of boots on the step outside the portacabin door and the rattle of a hand hitting the handle snapped him out of his reverie. He yanked his free hand off the box, quickly slicing open the remaining tape with the box cutter, before firmly and rigidly putting the box cutter away in the drawer.

“You alright, Rob?”  _Aaron_. Guilt settled thickly into Robert’s gut. He turned towards the door and nodded, unable to speak over the knot in his throat and the knowledge of what he’d almost done. Replaying like a video stuck on loop in his head was every vile, cruel thing Robert had ever said to Aaron about self harm. How could he have ever said any of that? He knew how: he was a monster. Aaron was better off without him. “Robert. Hello? Anyone home?” Aaron asked with a smile and a chuckle.

“Sorry Aaron. Must’ve zoned out there for a minute,” Robert replied, trying his hardest to smile back, begging for it to reach his eyes. It felt strange on his face. Wrong, unpracticed, wonky.

“You not feeling well? You look pale,” Aaron asked, concern clouding his eyes. Robert swore in his head. He must not have come off as casual as he was hoping for.

“I’m fine Aaron, I’m just tired. I think I might go home early.”

“You’ve been tired a lot lately,” Aaron said suspiciously, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to put something complicated together.

“Yeah, I’ve been working too much. You know me. That’s why I’m going home early today. I thought you’d be proud of me. Workaholic Robert, taking the afternoon off…” Robert searched for a joking tone. It sounded flat to his ears. 

“Okay… well if you’re sure…” Aaron answered, still concerned.

“Aaron, I’m fine. I’ll see you at home, okay? I’ll make dinner.” Robert hurriedly gave Aaron a kiss on the cheek and left, keys in hand, heading towards his car.

* * *

If Robert found holding a box cutter hard, driving was nearly impossible. Every wall he passed on the side of the road, every large tree, every building seemed to call out to him alluringly.  _Swerve off the road._  “No,” Robert said quietly out loud to himself. “No. I don’t want to do that. What the fuck is wrong with me?”

When Robert got home, he ran up the stairs to his and Aaron’s bedroom and climbed into bed, pulling the sheets over his head. He pulled out his phone, and found himself typing “citalopram not working” into google, followed by “citalopram making me worse”. He reads chat room after chat room, followed by answer site after answer site, and finds the same testimonial over and over again: “give this drug a chance! I almost gave up too soon because I felt terrible, but turns out it was the right drug for me!” And, similar to what his doctor had told him, the directive: “wait six weeks. If you don’t feel better by then, maybe try something else.” Robert was being ridiculous and pathetic, as per usual. He just had to make it to six weeks. Week six, and everything would change.

* * *

Robert doesn’t make it to week six. He makes it to week five before he realizes that the side effect mentioned in a severe looking black-outlined box on his medication is probably happening to him.  _Antidepressants may cause worsening depression, thoughts of suicide, and/or thoughts of harming yourself or others. If you experience this serious and life threatening side effect, contact your healthcare provider right away._  Robert’s driving to the scrapyard, battling his mind to not swerve off the road, when he finds himself swerving in a new direction: the doctor’s office in Hotten. Arriving at the office without an appointment is one of the most awkward and nerve-wracking moments of his life, comparable to when he told the hospital nurse that Aaron was his boyfriend. 

“I need to see someone,” Robert chokes out, in a hushed but frantic tone.

"Do you have an appointment?” the desk nurse asks, a blank expression on her face.

“No, I just–I need to see someone,” Robert stutters out, immediately uncomfortable.

“Is this a medical emergency?” the nurse asks with alarm this time.

“No.” Robert stops, takes a deep breath, and tries to think of what to say. Tries to muster his courage. Finally he whispers, “I’m on… an antidepressant, citalopram? And it’s making me…. feel like hurting myself.”

“We’ll get you in to see our doctor on call. Name? Date of birth?”

* * *

The doctor on call, Dr. Williams, is a kind elderly woman with a gentle smile on her face. She reminds Robert of Annie, and he immediately feels more at ease. She thanks him, genuinely, for coming in. She tells him that she knows how hard it must’ve been for him. And while normally that would make Robert angry and lash out, a denial and bitter barb on the tip of his tongue followed by a flood of denials, he’s just so  _tired_. That Robert is gone, and he’s not sure where to find that fire inside of himself anymore. He’s tired and frustrated and just wants to be  _better_.

“Was the medication working for you at your three week check-in?” Dr. Williams inquires, looking at his patient file.

“Sorry? What do you mean,” Robert states, confused. “I thought they didn’t start until week six.”

“Your mood most likely wouldn’t reach it’s peak improvement until week six, but by three weeks you should see improvements in your sleep, energy, motivation, appetite… these kinds of things. By your response just now, I’m guessing that’s a no?”

Robert shakes his head slowly, feeling embarrassed. That embarrassment soon transforms into a spreading warmth of shame, starting visibly on his face and spreading invisibly across his ribs, eating away at them.

“Mr. Sugden… nobody expects you to be an expert on all this. That’s why you come to us, doctors who have spent over eight years in medical schools and have gone through residency, doctors who diagnose you and prescribe medication to you, and are here to answer any questions or concerns you may have.”

“I just – I’m not sick. So how am I supposed to know what better feels like?” Robert asks, converting his shame into agitated indignation. A look of realization appears on Dr. William’s face, as if she suddenly understands Robert completely.

“Mr. Sugden. When you came in the first time, for your consult, you took a short questionnaire. Do you remember that?” Dr. Williams softly questions.

“Yes, I remember. What does that have to do with anything?” Robert snipes.

“That questionnaire is called the PHQ. It’s a measure for assessing depression. I have it stapled to the front of your patient file right here. Do you know what your score indicated? Written by your doctor, across the bottom: severe Major Depressive Disorder. The severe is underlined,” Dr. Williams finishes.

“Oh.” For once, Robert is lost for words.

“And that, Mr. Sugden, is why you’re on antidepressants. You have a serious illness. A real, diagnosed illness, that needs medication to treat. You’re not just having a bad time right now, or a rough couple of days. I hate the word normal, but in this case I’ll make an exception: how you’re feeling isn’t normal. It isn’t normal to feel as badly as I’m sure you do every single day. And there’s treatment available to help you. Mr. Sugden… you deserve to get better. You deserve to live a better life than you’re living right now because of your illness. Depression is chronic. But it’s not uncommon, and it’s manageable through medication and therapy. It’s not going to be easy, but… your life is worth it, isn’t it?” Dr. Williams looks directly into Robert’s eyes, and he has to look away because he feels them welling up.

“You don’t have to answer that question right now, as I’m sure the answer is a bit of a mixed bag at the moment. But we’re going to get you off that SSRI, okay? I’m going to switch you to Wellbutrin. You’ve only been on Citalopram five weeks, so you can do a direct swap. Stop taking the citalopram immediately, and take the wellbutrin in its place. Now, this new drug lowers your seizure threshold, so you need to let me know if you have a history of epilepsy, have ever had a serious head injury, or have had or currently have an eating disorder. If no, then I’ll write this prescription and you can be on your way.”

* * *

_Side effects include but are not limited to: Dizziness. Feeling Sleepy. Headache. Belly pain. Shakiness. Feeling nervous or excitable. Bad dreams. Upset stomach or throwing up. Constipation. Dry Mouth. Insomnia. Muscle pain. Sore throat. Sweating a lot. Not hungry. A change in weight without trying. Contact your doctor or get medical help if these side effects or any other effects bother you or do not go away. In rare cases, seizures, liver problems, high blood pressure, or toxic epidermal necrolysis may occur. Contact your doctor or get medical help if you notice any of the following signs or symptoms of these serious side effects…_

* * *

Robert gets home late that night, after leaving the doctor’s office and picking up his new prescription from the pharmacy in Hotten. On the drive home, he resolves himself to sit down with Aaron and talk through everything that had been going on the past few weeks and especially that day. For the first time in a long time, Robert felt hopeful. Maybe, just maybe… this new prescription might work. After his conversation with Dr. Williams, he feels more comfortable thinking of himself as legitimately… sick.  _I have depression._  Robert tries repeating that in his head a few times. It feels strange and distant to him, but also empowering. He feels like he finally has permission to take medication. That he’s not pathetic or ridiculous like he’d been thinking, or not strong enough to deal with regular daily life problems that everyone else manages just fine. He’s ill, and that’s okay. It doesn’t make him weak or pathetic. He’s just sick.

Those good feelings don’t last long.

At some point during his visit to the doctor in Hotten, he turned off his phone. With everything that had happened that day, he hadn’t remembered to turn it back on again. So as Robert sweeps into the house, caught up in his own revelations and hesitantly positive feelings, he’s caught short by a livid Aaron.

“Where the FUCK have you been,” Aaron spits. “You don’t show up for work? Don’t call me or text me? Who the fuck do you think you are.”

“Aaron– I…” Robert struggles to get his footing in this sudden situation he should’ve expected.  _Stupid, selfish, horrible, vile, ridiculous, pathetic…_

“Do you know how worried I’ve been? Not that you even care. I left you so many messages and voicemails, but you didn’t even spare a thought to me, did you. Where were you, huh? What’s your big grand excuse this time? You know, I am so sick of this. I put up with so much bullshit from you, even when everyone tells me I shouldn’t. My mum, Liv, hell even Charity and your own damn  _sister_  for god’s sake. Yet I don’t listen. Come on now, where were you? Or can’t you tell me. Is it another big secret? Just one more pack of lies you’re going to feed me? What are you hiding this time? A second family in Spain? A ponzi scheme gone wrong?  _Another murder?_ Why the fuck are you so quiet right now,” Aaron runs out of steam, anger still coursing through him, radiating off his body and from his eyes.

“I–” Robert can’t even answer him. It’s right there, on the tip of his tongue: _I was at the doctor. The meds aren’t working. I felt like hurting myself. I’m sorry I didn’t answer you today, I turned my phone off. It was wrong and I’m sorry. Let’s sit down, I’ll tell you everything. I’m so sorry._

That’s what Robert should’ve said, wanted to say, that a part of him was  _begging_  for him to say. But… he couldn’t. It felt wrong. It felt… cheap. To talk about it now, like this, in this way, with Aaron so angry… it felt like an excuse. It felt like he was asking Aaron to pity him, that he was exaggerating the situation, and this whole day suddenly made him feel sick and like a joke. He didn’t want to use his diagnosis and what he was struggling with to make Aaron forgive him. It wasn’t about that. That moment, that precious moment that Robert already felt would be a turning point in his life… he didn’t want to use it as a trading card to win an argument.

“You can’t tell me? Typical. I’m just so… sick of this Robert. I can’t take this anymore. I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of wondering where you are, worrying about who you’re with, what you’re doing… have you cheated on me again, is that it? Is that why you can’t tell me?” Aaron sounds defeated, even while still filled with rage.

“Aaron, no! I swear, it’s not that. I–” Robert stops short. How can he answer Aaron, without saying what he just resolved not to say?

“But you’ve said that before, haven’t you. In the prison visiting room. You told me, to my face, that you didn’t cheat on me. Yet you did, and now you’re HAVING A FUCKING BABY WITH HER!” Aaron exploded.

* * *

Aaron left that night. Robert couldn’t blame him, he deserved it, he deserved it all. He couldn’t defend himself, and he didn’t want to. Aaron deserved better than him, and the argument was about a lot more than not answering his phone that day. It was years, really, of pent up anger, disappointment, mistrust, pain, hurt… the list goes on and on. By the end of the night, when Aaron had finished saying his piece and was crying, while Robert remained silent, head lowered, willingly taking it, taking a break from their relationship felt right. Not even taking a break, ending it. For the time being or forever, Robert wasn’t sure. A twisted part of him hoped that it was forever. He wanted to see Aaron happy, healthy, with a family that didn’t include him. See him walking the streets with a handsome man on his arm, kissing him. It was what Robert deserved. It was  _all_  that he deserved.

Aaron told him he had to work on himself. That he had to get healthy, and go to counseling, and take care of Liv and his mum, and that didn’t include Robert. And Robert agreed. All he wanted was Aaron to get better, and he knew he was only making things worse, just like he did with everything and everyone whose lives he touched. Like a insidious vine or an invasive species, choking the life out of everything whenever he moved or grew, wherever he lived or breathed.

_And you’ll be okay, right? You’re on those meds, and I got a call today that they’ve found you a counselor. You’re off the waiting list. So that’ll start soon too. Plus, you’ve got Vic, and… you’ve got Vic._

Robert swallowed his words, bit his tongue until it bled to stop himself from revealing the truth to Aaron. It would be selfish and wrong. This wasn’t about him. This was about Aaron making the best decision for his life and his health. This was about Aaron getting better, and being happy. This wasn’t about him.

Before going to bed, he chokes down his first pill of Wellbutrin before crying himself to sleep.

* * *

Robert makes it a week on Wellbutrin, a week since Aaron left him, before he breaks. The first three days were hell. Robert couldn’t stop sweating, no matter how cold he made it in the Mill. He was still living in the Mill, Aaron had moved back into the pub for the time being, arranging to travel over to visit Liv and Chas soon. It was understood that by the time Aaron came back, Robert should be out. Robert wasn’t sure where he could go. Rebecca was staying with Victoria, who was his default whenever he found himself homeless.  _Homeless_. Robert hurriedly shoved those memories from when he left the village as a teen into the farthest corners or his brain, where they belonged.

Robert was also constantly nauseous, that first week. It wasn’t as explicit as when he was on Citalopram. He didn’t throw up, which was an improvement. But the feeling was always there, lingering. He also lost ten pounds, that first week. No matter how much he ate, he saw the number on the scale continue to drop. A part of Robert was glad, considering he had gained a lot of weight on the last medication. But another part of him was worried where the weight loss would end.

He felt full quicker, which was an improvement from the constant hunger from before, and he wasn’t as tired. He woke up in the morning and couldn’t sleep any longer, rather than before, where he felt like he could lie down anywhere and will himself to fall asleep and avoid his worries and responsibilities.

But by the end of the first week, those minor improvements began to fade. And that’s when Robert started to panic. He still felt like shit, and if he was being honest with himself, he still wanted to die. He cooked a pot of pasta on the stove and found himself staring at the piping hot rim of the saucepan, wondering how it’d feel to just let his hand touch it. It wasn’t as intense as it was before, and the rational part of Robert’s brain knew it was because he was still coming off the other drug. But the last night of the first week, Robert felt the precarious balance he had constructed for himself out of false hope and high expectations of being miraculously saved by this new medication, especially since Aaron left, crumble and then implode.

All of a sudden, Robert’s thinking about how the love of his life is gone, he’s destroyed everything he’s ever loved or wanted in his life, that nobody cares about him or if he lives or dies and he can’t blame them, that he’ll feel this way forever… and he starts to cry. And then he starts to sob. And all of a sudden he can’t stop crying, and he can’t breathe from crying so hard. He sinks to the floor, gasping between sobs in an aborted attempt to keep breathing beneath the flood of grief exploding from his every pore, and feels himself drowning in it. All the anguish, all the pain, every second of trauma from his entire life goes to the forefront of his mind all at once. And suddenly, he’s reliving watching Sarah die in the fire, being disowned by his dad again and again, punched in the face by his dad, when he was caught with the farmhand and beaten, living in the homeless shelter in London, Katie’s death, being outed to the entire pub, telling Andy he was with a man and being thrown out of his house into the dirt, sitting on the edge of the quarry with Andy terrified out of his mind his brother was going to die, being stuck in the sinking car with Aaron, believing he was going to die… until the only thought in Robert’s mind is  _I want it all to end._  With shaky hands, Robert lifts his phone. It takes him several tries to see the screen through the constant onslaught of tears, and even more tries to type the words into google: “how many wellbutrin does it take to kill yourself?” The answer never appears. Instead, the number to a suicide hotline does.

Robert growls in annoyance and throws his phone across the room. He sobs into his hands for several more minutes, and the anger and adrenalin of that moment helped clear his head slightly. His tears slow to a stop, and he crawls across the room to get his phone. Unlocking his phone, he sees the number for the suicide hotline still up on his screen. He stares at it for a while, then whispers  _fuck it_  and dials the number.

“You’ve reached the National Suicide Hotline. My name is Matt. Who am I speaking with?” answers a calm voice. Robert has to clear his throat a few times before he can get his voice to work.

“Uh- this is Robert,” Robert croaks out.

“Hi, Robert. What brought you to call this evening?” Matt continues, calm and evenly paced.

“Uh. I don’t know how this works. I’ve never done this before. You’re not going to send ambulances to my house, are you?” Robert asks, panic suddenly rising in his throat.  _I’ll be the talk of the town then. Stupid, pathetic Robert Sugden. They’ll wish I had offed myself. Talk about how much I deserve to die. Laugh at me_.

“That depends Robert. Are you thinking about ending your life right now?” Alex continues, still calm as ever.

“No, not really. Not right now. I’m just. I started this antidepressant and – I don’t think it’s working. And the last one didn’t work either. And my husband’s just left me, and all this shit from my past is sitting in my head, and… I just… I couldn’t stop crying. But no, I’m not going to off myself tonight.” Robert explained, gaining some confidence.

“So, your husband’s just left you, and you’ve had a shitty past, is that correct?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, you could say that… I watched my mum die in a fire that my brother caused, my dad beat me for being with a man, I was homeless for a while, I accidentally killed my brother’s fiance and love of his life, I lost all my money and job by cheating on my wife with my now-husband, and then he told everyone in the village I was gay, which I’m not, by the way, not that it matters to him or anyone else… sorry. That isn’t fair. The point of all this is my life has been shitty. But the majority was my own fault. I poison everything I touch. Dying would honestly be doing everyone a favor. The first non-selfish act in my entire poisonous and selfish life,” Robert finished.

“Wow. From what your telling me, your life really has sucked. And continues to suck. So, I guess my question is, why are you depending on a pill to help you?”

“….I’m sorry, what?” Robert asked, frozen.

“You mentioned you had called tonight because you were upset your antidepressant wasn’t working. But from what your telling me, your life sucks right now, and is going to continue to suck for a while now. So of course you’re going to feel bad!”

“But– I’m sorry but… the doctor said… I have… I’m sick…” Robert struggled to remember everything the doctor had told him, everything that had made him feel so empowered and not pathetic, that had made everything click into place for him.

“It’s been my experience, if I may, that what makes life worth living is the connections you make with people and loved ones. Do you have people in your life you feel like are there for you? What about your friends, where are they in all of this?” Alex continued. Robert remained silent, and felt himself shut down. Part of him was angry, another part stunned, and a third part defeated. He couldn’t believe he had called this number. How humiliating and embarrassing. And worst of all, he couldn’t even answer Alex’s question. Where were Robert’s friends? Robert didn’t have any. Robert didn’t have anyone. He didn’t have parents, Diane only tolerated him on a good day. His only friend was Aaron, who wanted nothing to do with him, and rightly so. Nobody cared about him, nobody loved him, nobody supported him. He was on his own.

Except… maybe Vic.

“It was Alex, right? I think this call was a mistake. I’m feeling a lot better. I’m going to call my sister. I’m gonna go now,” Robert said hurriedly.

“Oh, uh, okay. Give us a call back if you need to. At the end of this call there’ll be an automated survey about your experience which you can answer if you’d like. Goodbye.” Alex ended the call, and an automated voice began the survey. Robert hung up the phone immediately in disgust.

He sat for a moment, thinking. He had lied to the hotline operator. He did still feel like ending his life. If anything, that call had made him feel worse, although he did feel a bit better telling someone what was going on with him. Not going through it all alone, and bottling his emotions.

It was 11 pm. Victoria would be home. But would she even answer his call, at this point? Would she even listen to him, or care? He doubted it. He wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t, the way he’d been acting recently, and treating Rebecca. Treating everyone, if he was honest. But the thought of trying to make it through the night without hurting himself scared him. So he picked up the phone and before he could overthink it, called his sister.

She picks up. “Robert, I’m really not in the mood tonight for any of your complaining and blaming other people. You created this mess, okay?” Victoria begins.

“Vic… I know. I know.” Robert says, exhausted. He doesn’t know what to say or what to do. He just feels tired.

“Oh. Robert, are you okay? Your voice sounds weird,” Vic replies. That’s all it takes to get Robert crying again. It’s not as intense as before, but he knows his sister can hear it through the phone.

“Vic, I know I’ve been vile, and I know I don’t deserve it, but I need you to come over okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Robert spews between sobs.

“Robert what’s going on???” Victoria rushes out, panic obvious in her voice.

“I lied, well I didn’t lie but I didn’t tell Aaron, but the meds weren’t working and I started wanting to die and then he left me,  _he left me Vic_ , and I’m glad he did because I deserve it, and I just feel so empty and bad and I ruin everything and — and I understand if you don’t come, but I’m really scared I’m going to hurt myself and I really need you to come over here and sit with me. I’m sorry,” Robert rambles.

“Rob. Robert listen to me okay? You have nothing to apologize for. I love you. You hear me? I love you and you’re my brother. I will always love you. No matter what. I’m coming over, okay? Stay right where you are, I’m putting on my shoes right now. Don’t move. I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me until I’m at the door, okay?” Victoria directs Robert, her voice starting out shaky and tear-stricken, but ending strong and determined.

“Okay. I love you Vic. I love you and I’m sorry.”

* * *

When Vic arrives, Robert opens the door for her she pulls him into a hug and doesn’t let go for a long time. They sit down on the floor together in the entryway and he tells her everything. Everything about the past month, and his visit to the doctor, and his fight with Aaron. Last of all, he tells her about tonight. It’s hard for him, and it’s more than he’s ever shared with his sister before in regards to his emotions but… once he’s started, he just can’t stop. And the worst part is over, anyway. He admitted to his sister he was thinking of hurting himself. Nothing could be as scary as that. She told him she loved him and she was  _here_. When no one else probably would even answer his call at this point, and for good reason, she was here. And she was always like that, even after he got shot. Everyone hated his guts, even Aaron wished he had died, and she let him stay in her house. Was heartbroken when he told her he was leaving the village. She loved him unconditionally. With her, he could get through anything.

After telling her everything, Victoria hugged him tightly again and they both cried. It was easily the closest they had ever been as siblings. They moved from the cold hard floor of the entryway over to the living room couch, and sat down together. For the rest of the night, Victoria stayed with him. She distracted him by making dessert, and then they watched a shitty television movie together, and then she turned on music and they goofed around. Robert didn’t feel much like laughing or smiling or dancing but… she distracted him. She dragged him off the couch and did the most ridiculous moves he couldn’t help but show the barest glimpse of a smile, and eventually she got him to try to play along even a little, even if it was half-hearted and he could barely drag his limbs up. Vic didn’t say anything or judge him, she just kept smiling and being energetic, trying to distract him and waste time the best she could until the sun rose. His sister loved him. And all of it helped him make it through the night.

At one point in the early hours of the morning, he finally drifted off to sleep on the couch. They had collapsed on the couch again, and Vic had put on one of his favorite movies from when they were kids. He was touched she even remembered, and she tried to talk about other happy memories from when they were children, but he stopped her and asked her not to. She immediately changed the subject to the plot of the movie, and Robert had never been so grateful for someone in his life.

As Robert blinked awake, he heard Victoria on the phone telling Marlon she wasn’t going in to work today. He turned to her and told her that she didn’t have to do that, but she wasn’t hearing any of it.  _You’re my brother, there’s no where else I should be right now. I love you, you know that right?_

* * *

Victoria stayed with him three more nights in the Mill, even though he insisted he was feeling a bit better. Secretly, he was glad she stayed, because he was still really struggling at night, even though he was feeling better and could’ve done it alone. They didn’t stay up all night together like they did the first night, but they did spend time talking or watching a movie before usually falling asleep on the couch. Robert truly began to believe that he and his sister could face anything, together.

After the fourth night, Victoria asked him if he’d consider moving in with her and Rebecca. By this point, Robert was so used to being completely open and honest with his sister, and recognized that he truly needed her support, so he agreed. The condition was of course that Rebecca was okay with it, which Victoria immediately assured him she was.

“I promise you, Robert, I didn’t tell her anything you told me, and no real details, but…. I’ve been staying over here the past several nights, and I told her that you were going through a really, really bad time. She’s a good person Rob, and not an idiot, so she understood. She’s completely fine with you staying with us,” Victoria reassured him.

* * *

The living arrangement actually ends up working out better than any of the three could’ve imagined. Robert’s too tired and drained to fight with Rebecca, and from the moment Rebecca sees the state Robert is in, she recognizes how serious the situation is. While at first the relationship between them is awkward, formal, and stilted, over the course of three months it becomes a real friendship. The three of them spend all their time together, when Rebecca’s not visiting Chrissie or her father, and Victoria’s not at work. Robert mostly stays to the house, too nervous to head out into the village and face people who know him, and know  _Aaron_. Robert starts counseling, and it really helps him. Wellbutrin, the second prescription, ends up being the right medication for him after all, and he really starts to feel better. He has energy, he doesn’t feel the need to eat constantly when he’s upset, he doesn’t sleep the days away, and his mood… he feels like there’s a floor to his grief. When something bad happens, or he remembers something upsetting or traumatic, he doesn’t plunge into darkness. He no longer feels like harming himself or wanting to die, except on the rarest of occasions, and then he can talk to his counselor, or Vic, or Rebecca. It’s difficult to describe, but he feels like everything is going to be okay and work out in the end. He feels peaceful, and optimistic, and… happy. He’s not happy all the time, and wouldn’t want to be. His mood changes with the situation. But he no longer feels the extremes. And he doesn’t feel numb, or as empty. And he’s working through the rest in counseling.

Living with Vic and Rebecca comes with its own set of surprises too. It doesn’t take Robert long to realize that there’s something more to  _Vic and Rebecca_ than friendship. He finally talks to Vic about it, and while blushing and embarrassed, she admits that she and Rebecca are dating. While a past Robert might have been shocked and horrified by the news, the Robert sitting before Victoria on that day couldn’t have been happier for her. She tells him that she never could’ve gotten to be as happy as she was, in love with Rebecca and soon to raise a child with her, without Robert. When he jokes about sperm donation, she whacks him and tells him that she meant bisexuality. At this, Robert can’t help but get teary-eyed, and he wonders how being diagnosed with depression could’ve ended up being one of the best things that ever happened to him. He’s not in a great place yet, he has a long road still to travel with counseling, but he finally feels like he’s on his way towards a good life. A life surrounded by people who love and care about him without conditions.

* * *

Of course, Robert couldn’t live in this bubble with Vic and Rebecca forever. Eventually, he has to face the village. They start small, talking walks together down the streets, or doing small errands as a group in David’s shop. Then there’s breakfasts at Bob’s, and eventually… dinner at the pub. And this is where everything goes to hell. Without Robert realizing it, Chas, Liv, and Aaron had all returned to the village and were living in the pub again. Robert can’t help but stare as they move to an open table, and he’s about to turn to Vic and let her know that he can’t do this and they should all go home when he hears it.

“…honestly the nerve of him, coming in here like he has a right to. He should crawl right back into the slimy cave he came from,” Chas tells Marlon, Liv, and Aaron, not exactly trying to keep her voice down. Robert tenses, and Vic shoots Chas a glare while she puts a hand on top of Robert’s.

“Maybe we should–” Rebecca starts, but doesn’t get to finish her thought before it starts up again.

“He should’ve died when he got shot, or in that car accident. Done us all a favor. Saved us all a lot of misery,” Chas continues.

“That’s it, we’re leaving,” Victoria says, grabbing Robert’s hand firmly. Rebecca is already on her feet, heading towards the door. Robert’s eyes are glazed over, and she has to drag him along next to her as he stumbles with her towards the door. They make it out of the pub, and Robert shakes his head clear.

“Don’t even listen to them Rob, they don’t know a thing about you,” Rebecca says. In his stunned state at hearing the very things he’d been telling himself not so long ago, Robert is struck by how ludicrous it would’ve been back then to hear Rebecca defending him and saying the words she’s telling him right now.

“We love you Robert, and you deserve to live and be happy, same as every other human being. What a horrible thing to say about any person. I have half a mind to quit working at the pub right now,” Victoria tells him passionately, anger bubbling in her small frame.

It’s at that moment Aaron comes out of the pub, catching the end of Victoria’s diatribe. “Robert… can I talk to you? Just for a moment,” Aaron asks softly. Victoria and Rebecca turn to look at him, ready to jump in and sweep him away back home at his signal, but he waves them on.

“Yeah, that’s fine Aaron. Just for a moment, then I’ve got to head home,” Robert replies, sighing tiredly. He wonders when he started thinking of Vic’s house as his home. He can’t remember when it started, but it couldn’t be more true. Victoria and Rebecca have continued walking towards it, but also continue to cautiously look back at him and Aaron, clearly uncomfortable straying too far away from him right now. “What’s up, Aaron?”

“You’re living with Rebecca now? Seriously? Are you playing mummy and daddy with her too? Just when I think you couldn’t get anymore low,” Aaron says incredulously, keeping his voice low as he glances over at Vic and Rebecca. Robert isn’t angry, he doesn’t feel the need to defend himself he just feels… tired. Tired and calm, with the realization that words like this can’t hurt him anymore. They’re so far from the truth, they’re so far from the realities of the past several months, it would almost be laughable if it wasn’t exhausting and disheartening.

“Goodbye, Aaron,” Robert says calmly, turning away.

“That’s all your going to say?! You’re not even going to deny it?! I knew it from the moment you got her pregnant, Rob. At least now you can have your nice, normal, straight family you’ve always wanted,” Aaron yelled after him. Robert just kept walking. It wasn’t worth it.

“Well that was obviously a nice and productive chat,” Rebecca said awkwardly when he finally caught up to him and Vic.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Robert responded.

“Rob, how can you say that? Aaron’s your husband, your whole world! You don’t want to tell him the truth? You don’t want to let him know that you and Bex are not and will never be together because I am with her? That we’re raising the baby together, and you’re going to pitch in when we need it, but you don’t want to be a father? That we’re living together because we’re family? About your depression?” Victoria asked him, confusion covering her face.

“Vic… as far as telling Aaron about you and Bex goes, that’s not my secret to share. If you both want to make your relationship public, or come out, or both, that’s your decision, and yours alone. There’s been too much pain from outing in this village. And you’re right, Aaron was my whole world. But as much as I tried to skew it in my head, that wasn’t healthy. I was talking to my counselor the other day about it, and.. it wasn’t romantic, being willing to die in the lake for Aaron. It was a warning sign for how bad my mental health was getting. My whole world was another person, the love of my life. Now, my whole world is getting better. My whole world is going to counseling, and taking my meds, and spending time with my family, who know me, trust me, and care about me. Aaron’s not the bad guy here, he doesn’t know anything about the past few months, because I didn’t tell him. He’s dealing with it all the best way he knows how based on the information he has. And God knows, I’ve done a lot to hurt him. Too much,” Robert tells them both.

“But Rob-” Victoria goes to interrupt.

“No listen, I’m not done. Aaron’s not the bad guy, he’s not the villain. But I’m not either. Maybe I was, once, when I was doing all that fucked up stuff to everyone I cared about, including you Rebecca. But now? I’m… I’m not a villain, or a bad guy. I wasn’t born inherently evil, or broken. It’s taken me a long time to come to terms with it all, and I’m still not fully there yet, but… I deserve to live. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to have a family, and to be unconditionally loved. And I think it’ll be the work of a lifetime to fully believe all those things. But just because I deserve those things doesn’t mean I don’t have to work for and earn them. The same way I did with both of you, from the ground up. One day at a time.” Vic and Rebecca look at him and nod solemnly, taking in what he’s saying.

“I’m a human being. And I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and hurt a lot of people. I’m also mentally ill. My counselor told me I have atypical depression, and that means I’m extremely sensitive to rejection and lash out and hurt people I’m close with when I feel like I’m being rejected and abandoned. And that’s never an excuse, but an explanation. It’s something that I need to work at every day. And I plan to do that. And maybe someday, years from now, I’m in a good place with my mental health, and Aaron’s in a good place with his, and we meet again and we start from the ground up. And it won’t be because Aaron feels like he owes me something, or feels guilty for breaking things off with me when I wasn’t in a good place. And it won’t be because I feel like I can’t live without him. It’ll only be because we want to be together, not because we feel like we have to be. And it’ll be a clean slate, because love isn’t keeping score. Love isn’t “I hurt you, so you’re allowed to hurt me” or vice versa. We start over, and maybe it works out, or maybe it doesn’t. But either way, we’ll be fine. We’ll be okay. Because my life is worth more than my relationships. My life is big, and vast, and infinite, and I’m going to be okay.  _I’m going to be okay._ ”

“Is this Robert Sugden speaking? Holy shit,” Rebecca says, in awe.

“Seriously Rob, you should write a book or something! Did you just come up with all of that on the spot?” Victoria says, smiling, pride shining in her eyes.

“Maybe I will. Maybe that’ll be my next project. I plan to live for a very long time, even if I have to fight for every day of it. I have a lot of time to figure it all out.”


End file.
